


Dedication

by BestParsley



Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: Gen, I was emotional when I wrote this so, sorry if its cheesy, tanaka is a good parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26219623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BestParsley/pseuds/BestParsley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Dedication

A livid Akihiko marched through the front door of the Usami estate, crossed the foyer, climbed up the grand staircase, and headed straight to his room, all without even bothering to announce his return home. 

Moments later, Fuyuhiko entered looking calm and collected as ever. He nodded to the family butler, who stood near the French doors, as if to say  _ ‘don’t worry, I’ve got this under control’ _

Only, he didn’t follow the young man who had only moments ago disappeared to his room. Fuyuhiko didn’t even glance in his son’s direction. He simply walked off into another hallway, likely to go to his office.

Tanaka sighed.  _ When will he ever learn? _

He started a pot of tea. 

...

Fifteen minutes passed. Akihiko had finished crying his angry tears into his pillow. Now he was simply left to stew in his own anger and resentment. He would have kicked something, or punched a wall, but he wasn’t much of a fighter. His anger didn't manifest in violence. He had learned to bottle in the emotions, as his brother did. It was how their father taught them to deal with the unpleasant and harsh reality of the world.  _ Keep it in. No one wants to see your tears.  _

A knock on the door pulled the young Usami from his thoughts. His blood began to boil once more. Anger bubbled under his skin like hot tar. He prepared for another screaming match with his father, and opened the door with a seething  _ “What?” _

But when the door opened to reveal Tanaka steering a tray of tea and cookies, his temper immediately fizzled out. 

“I made tea.” The man said simply. 

Akihiko frowned, but left the door ajar and shuffled back over to his bed. He sat patiently and waited as the butler poured a cup for him. It was a simple earl grey blend, but it was soothing nonetheless. The cookies were an added treat, but there was little that could calm the raging fire in Akihiko’s stomach. It was clear he was still harboring some anger. He was red in the face and bouncing his knee anxiously. 

“Akihiko-sama…” Tanaka started. “How was the tour of the company?”

The young man looked up with impatience.  _ How do you think it went? _

“Would you mind sharing with me what has gotten you so upset?”

Minutes passed in silence. It looked like Akihiko was trying to hold back tears and sorting through the words he was trying to say. Tanaka gave him the time he needed and poured himself a cup of tea. It may have been out of line to share a meal with one of the young masters of the house, but Akihiko was never one to deny Tanaka his tea. They often shared their afternoon tea together, whether it be in the study, in the library, or in the dining hall. Akihiko enjoyed the butler’s company, and Takana cared a great deal for the young man. 

“When will he ever see, Tanaka?” Akihiko muttered in a small voice. 

“Pardon?”

“When will he ever acknowledge what I want to do?”

“Akihiko-sama, I—“

“Why is it that I’m only allowed to follow  _ his  _ dreams. I don’t  _ want  _ to take over the company. I don’t want anything to do with his company! When I turn eighteen, I swear, I’m going to leave this place and never look back!”

Though it likely hadn’t been his intention, his words cut deep. Tanaka took a moment to soothe the pang in his heart from hearing that last declaration and set his cup down on a tray. “Akihiko-sama, what is it that you want to do?”

Akihiko chewed his lip. “I mean...I...I love to write. It’s my passion, but I don’t know if what I write is any good or not.”

For a moment, Tanaka wished he could have explained how he had read many of the works Akihiko kept hidden in his desk. He wished to assure the young man that he indeed was a  _ very  _ talented writer.  _ Practically a genius, in all honesty.  _

“Didn’t young Isaka-sama say he really enjoyed your stories?”

Akihiko shrugged. “Well...kind of, Yeah.”

Tanaka sighed. He pushed the cart aside and dropped the veil of formality for a moment. He took a seat next to Akihiko on the bed and clasped his hands together between his knees in thought. “Why is it that you are so nervous to share your work?”

“Because writing is all I have, Tanaka.” Akihiko explained. “It's everything I have. It’s everything I am. None of my possessions truly belongs to me. It all belongs to my father—to my father's name. My entire life has been dedicated to nothing but my father’s name. If I don’t have my stories, I don’t truly own anything. They are the one true possession I have that belongs to my name.”

For a minute, Tanaka contemplated the young man’s words. 

Akihiko took the chance to continue. “I’ve always been ‘Usami Fuyuhiko’s son’ to everyone I have ever known. My father’s name follows me around like a plague. My own identity doesn’t even belong to me. I’m nothing but an heir to an empire of money and corporations. I don’t want that! I don’t want any of it!”

The room echoed with silence. Akihiko was visibly shaken with rage. His father had done his son a great injustice, and Akihiko was reaching the age in which he wanted— _ demanded— _ his father to right his wrongs. He was as stubborn as both of his parents and then some.  _ I should know,  _ Tanaka smiled bitterly.  _ I was the one who raised him.  _

“Akihiko.” Tanaka started, careful to choose his words wisely. “You are a gifted, and hard working young man. Others may not see it, but I know the effort and the passion you put into your writing. I believe that someday, when you have decided to share your stories with the world, the world will know you. The world will recognize the Usami name, not just for your father, but for the wonderful talent you have. People on the streets will see ‘Usami Akihiko’ and see your face. They will know who you are.”

Shining violet eyes watched Tanaka with wonder as he continued to speak. “Someday, you will have a fortune of your own that belongs rightfully to you, because of your work. You’ll make a name for yourself. I have no doubt of that. If you choose to walk your own path, you will have my support and dedication. I believe in you. But in order to walk the path you are choosing, you  _ must  _ learn to share your stories, however frightening the thought of that may be.”

Akihiko looked down at his hands with an unreadable expression. For a while, he remained silent. Tanaka gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. 

“I told you, Tanaka...my stories are...they’re everything to me...if I give them up—“

“If you give them up, you’ll be giving away all that you have, but Akihiko,” Tanaka rested a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “if you keep those stories to yourself, you’ll have nothing else to give.”

In that moment, the world seemed to click. Akihiko’s eyes blinked in astonishment, and his thoughts came to a stuttering halt. 

_ If you keep those stories to yourself, you’ll have nothing else to give. _

Akihiko remembered that advice when he went to Isaka and offered to share his work. He remembered it when the book was published, and when his story became an overnight best seller. He remembered it when he was named the youngest author to receive the Naomori award, all while continuing school and graduating at the top of his class, with a degree in law from Teito University. He remembered that talk they shared and the advice Tanaka gave him throughout his career, and spent years trying to find a way to thank him for it. 

One day, nearly a decade and a half after that fateful afternoon when Tanaka had sat with him and told he  _ he believed in him,  _ a package arrived under Tanaka’s name. He frowned in confusion, taking care to triple check the label for any mistake in address or misidentification before opening the package. 

Inside, wrapped in tissue paper and with a card, a book titled “The Path We Choose” lay in perfect condition. Tanaka had heard word that the author was set to release a new book in the next few months, but he was sure this copy had been sent before it was released to the public. 

He smiled and flipped through a few pages to find a dedication message written in a small italicized font. 

_ For Tanaka Fumiki. _

_ All I can say is thank you.  _


End file.
